


A Little Southern Hospitality

by crywolf



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Hilarity Ensues, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, i just really wanted dave and dirk fighting over john???, john egbert is ridiculously oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crywolf/pseuds/crywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John comes to stay at the Strider household, he unintentionally starts a war between Dave and Dirk. This is going to be a long two weeks...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, god, I don't know how to write. I hope this isn't completely terrible.  
> Thanks to my lovely betas samonsterx and harmonykitty! (I guess this makes me the alpha, hehehe.)

Your name is John Egbert and you can’t believe you finally get to see Dave! In real life! It’s pretty safe to say that you are freaking the fuck out. You’ve got your flight ticket in your hands, holding onto it tightly, as if any second it could just float away without you. Your bags are mostly packed already – they have been for a week now. You were too excited to wait – and you’ve got 12 more hours to go before Dad takes you to the airport. 12 painfully long hours. You’re not even sure if you’ll be able to sleep tonight, you’re so anxious! You just want to play video games with him, and find out what his laugh sounds like, and throw popcorn at him when he inevitably insults your awesome movies… It’ll be nice to have your friend close!  
None of your friends in school are really like Dave. They’re nice enough, and you hang out with them sometimes, but you don’t think they understand you like your Internet pal does. You can always look forward to seeing that red text light up your screen when you get home, going off on a tangent with some metaphor that slowly becomes so diluted it barely makes sense… it makes you smile.  
  
You throw a few more items into your suitcase: a bag of gummy worms, your favourite ghostbusters tee, some swim trunks, and a carefully wrapped present. You struggle to get the bag zipped up with everything staying inside, managing to get it about halfway before you let yourself take a break and flop onto your bed in defeat.  
  
 _Ding._  
  
Someone’s pestering you. It must be Dave! You nearly fall on your face in your mad dash to the computer desk, catching yourself just in time. You really need to calm down. He’s going to think you’re some hyperactive weirdo if you act like this once you get to Texas. Deep breaths, you tell yourself. You open up pesterchum to see a new message.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--  
  
TG: sup  
EB: hi dave!!!  
EB: only a few more hours and we finally get to meet in person!  
EB: i can hardly wait!  
TG: i dont know man  
TG: im not sure youre ready for all the strider swag youre about to be faced with  
EB: i think i can manage.  
TG: i mean handling one is hard enough  
TG: but three  
TG: shit you better prepare yourself  
TG: i bet youre already wet just thinking about it  
TG: you sick little fuck  
EB: haha.  
EB: yeah, TOTALLY.  
EB: i bet you guys are actually really lame.  
TG: excuse you  
TG: do you know who youve been talking to for the last 4 years  
EB: well how would i know!  
EB: i’ve only ever heard you talk about what a cool kid you are.  
EB: i don’t even really know what you look like, dude.  
TG: yeah i guess not  
TG: i could send you a pic if you want  
TG: just to ease you into it  
TG: dont want you creaming yourself in the middle of a crowded airport when you lay your eyes on me  
EB: okay!  
EB: i guess i should send you one of me too.  
TG: why the hell not  
TG: brb

Oh, wow, this is really happening. You were finally going to see what he looked like! You guess it’s probably going to make pick up easier tomorrow when he meets you at the airport. You were a bit worried you might end up laying your best bro embrace on some innocent bystander who you’d mistaken for Dave. That’s totally a thing that could happen. You tend to let your excitement get the better of you and often wind up in really embarrassing situations!  
  
> Come on now, we don’t have all day.   
  
Of course! You can’t leave your bro hanging! He’s probably on the edge of his seat, the suspense must be killing him!  
Actually, you think he’s probably taking an ungodly amount of time with his camera aimed at the bathroom mirror, making duck faces like a 13-year-old girl. Ironically, of course.  
  
You pull out your own camera and hold it as far from yourself as your arms will let you, grinning your stupid, goofy grin as you take the photo. You don’t really care how it looks. You’re not self-conscious or anything. You are who you are, and surely your best bro won’t really care what you look like, right?

\----

You are now Dave Strider and you’re definitely not nervous. Not even a little. Nope. You will admit that you’re pretty excited to be meeting your best friend face to face, though. That’s perfectly reasonable. You two have been saving up money for quite a while now to make the trip happen. You wouldn’t even let your bros help you out. You got a real fucking job and did it yourself. Of course, you only kept the job for a few months. There’s only so long you can work at Taco Bell until it stops being ironic and starts being just plain depressing. But that’s all behind you now, and you are sure as hell never looking back.

You grab your camera and leave your room. You can see Bro sitting on the couch watching My Little Pony. Down the hall you can hear Dirk in his room with the music cranked, probably working on one of his robotics projects. You turn your attention back to the living room for a moment to observe its state of tidiness. You have to admit it’s not too bad, considering what it usually looks like.

You’ve spent the whole week getting this death trap of an apartment ready. You’ve cleared the swords out of the fridge several times now – they keep finding their way back in there – and gotten rid of the fireworks in the sink. Bro doesn’t really give a shit about John coming, so he’s not really putting in much effort to keep the place livable by normal standards. Dirk has at least promised to stay out the way. Not like it’s much of a change for him. He usually holes himself up in his room with some leftover Chinese food to tinker for hours on end. At least he keeps his shit to himself. Bro just leaves his smuppets in piles around the living room. You’ve tried to hide them as best you can, but you swear to god, he’s leaving them out on purpose! John knows about them, but for christ’s sake you don’t want to scar the little bastard.

> Take the goddamn picture already. 

Right. The picture. You head straight to the bathroom across the hall. You then proceed to take a series of ironic selfies until you deem one acceptable. You head back to your computer to see John has already sent you a file and is getting impatient waiting for you.  


EB: http://tinyurl.com/004543  
EB: there you go!  
EB: dave.  
EB: daaaaaaaave.  
EB: are you still there?  
EB: don’t tell me you saw my face and fainted like a girl.  
EB: i know i’m hot but seriously, man, pull yourself together!  
EB: heh heh.  
TG: http://tinyurl.com/keepyourpantiesonegbert

You roll your eyes behind your shades before opening the file he sent and – oh. Oh shit. This is not good. He’s… really fucking cute.  
  
He’s got this messy tangle of black hair and an overly wide grin that shows off his oversized front teeth. His skin is pretty pale - especially in contrast to his thick-rimmed black glasses - and he’s built like a beanstalk, like he jumped straight out of the Science Club year book picture from the most cliché high school imaginable. But all this is pushed to the back of your mind because those eyes are staring straight into your soul. Holy shit. They are the bluest things you’ve ever seen. You’re pretty sure it’s not even possible to have eyes like that. But there they are. Huge and impossibly blue. Wow.  
  
You come back to real life when you realize John’s been messaging you again. 

EB: woah!  
EB: i can’t believe i ever doubted you, cool kid.  
EB: i’m blinded by the irony!  
EB: haha.  
TG: yeah its a curse  
TG: i literally cant stop being cool  
TG: its hard egbert you wouldnt understand  
EB: also are those the shades i got you?  
TG: yeah  
TG: theyre basically an extension of my person now  
TG: i dont think i can physically take them off anymore  
TG: theyre about as attached to my face as you are to your terrible fucking movies  
TG: which you better not be bringing  
EB: too late!  
EB: they’re already piled underneath all my other stuff in my suitcase.  
EB: there’s no sense in taking them out now!  
TG: goddamnit egbert  
TG: this is why we can’t have nice things  
EB: oh!  
EB: my dad’s calling me for dinner.  
EB: i’ll talk to you later!  
TG: sure whatever

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

> Become a nervous wreck.  
  
Yeah, that’s not something you’re going to be doing. Besides, you’ve already established that you’re not even nervous to begin with. So what if your best friend is sort of attractive? And also staying at your place for the next two weeks. And sleeping in your room. Okay, shut up, you’re starting to sound like a creep. He’s your bro and you’re not going to mess this up just because he’s got really nice eyes or a ridiculously charming smile…  
  
You think you might have a crush on your best friend. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John's last night before leaving, and boy, is he excited!
> 
> Also, have you met Dirk?

> Be the other guy

You are now the other guy. John Egbert to be specific. The other thing you are is staring at the picture of your best friend. You can’t really seem to look away, actually. You can feel heat in your cheeks and you’re not really sure why. This is ridiculous! You kind of knew he would look like this. It’s not like he’s never let details about his appearance slip into conversation. He’s not even really that different from what you imagined. He’s just… uh. You don’t really know how to describe it.  
  
Stop blushing, damnit!  
  
You decide to take your mind off the weird feeling in your stomach by filling it up with some nice home-cooked food. It’s the last time Dad will be cooking for you until two weeks from now! You sure will miss him.  
  
You head down to the kitchen where you can already smell the sickeningly sweet smell of confections spreading through the house. You see Dad standing at the kitchen counter, looming over the monstrosity in question. A three-layer cake is being iced as you watch in terror.  
  
“Ah, son, just in time!” Dad says, a smile spreading across his face. “Dinner’s ready and I’m just putting the finishing touches on your going away cake.”  


You already feel your stomach protesting as you stare down the pastry before you. You knew this would happen so you’d avoided sweet food all day in preparation for the huge slice of cake you would politely suffer through. You just didn’t have the heart to tell your Dad you hated cake. You really can’t say no to your Dad in general. He’s the only one you’ve got, apart from Dave and your other Internet friends.

Your mom died when you were very little, much too young to remember her, and Dad doesn’t talk much about her either. He raised you on his own, with help from your Nana before she passed too. After that it had just been the two of you. You’ve done your best to stay out of trouble in school and make good grades. You want to pay him back for everything he’s done for you by being the best son possible. You’re not always very good at that, however. Every time you wind up in detention and your Dad has to pick you up from school because the bus left without you, or your grades start to slip because you find it too hard to pay attention in class… you can see how tired he really is. He smiles and shrugs it off when you try to talk to him about it, but you know. It’s hard being a single parent.

You force yourself to smile appreciatively.

“Oh, geez, thanks Dad!” is all you say.

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs, turning back to finish the words on the top layer. “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Once you’ve eaten dinner and talked to Dad about all the cool stuff you’re going to with Dave, he goes to grab the cake. He sets it down and you eye it suspiciously. On the top reads, “I’m so proud of you, son.” in neat cursive. If you were a normal kid, you’d probably be getting all mushy right about now. But honestly, your Dad made you a cake like this last week when you mowed the lawn for him. He’s always proud of you – you’re not one to complain. You roll your eyes in the most affectionate way you can manage. He hands you the knife to give you the honors of cutting the cake and before you can think any better of it-

_SPLAT!_

Your face it covered in frosting – The old exploding cake trick. You’re sure Nana would have been tearing up at this – and your father is keeling over with laughter from across the table. It’s got to be tough raising a kid on his own, but you guess it’s moments like these that make it worthwhile! You end up laughing along with him, because you’re happy to see him happy (and because haha, jokes on him, now you don’t have to eat the cake!) until he calms down and puts his hand on your shoulder, beaming down at you.

“Don’t worry, son,” He says, “I put aside some cake for us to eat.”

You let out a miserable sigh.

You return to your room, freshly showered, hair still a bit damp, and check to see if Dave’s still online. Surprisingly enough, he’s not! He can’t be asleep already, it’s only 8pm there! Ugh… Looks like Jade’s on though!

  


\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began trolling gardenGnostic [GG] \--  
EB: hi jade!  
GG: oh hey john!!!!  
GG: are you still as excited about your trip as last time i talked to you?  
EB: hell yes!  
EB: its gonna be pretty much more awesome than you could imagine.  
GG: :)  
EB: so much bro bonding time.  
GG: I’m sure you guys will have loooots of fun! ;)  
EB: what’s with the winky face?  
GG: oh nothing…  
GG: you better get to sleep soon though!  
GG: isnt your flight super early in the morning?  
EB: well, i set my alarm for 6, but I don’t know if I’m even going to be able to fall asleep.  
EB: i just keep thinking about all the awesome stuff we’re going to do when i get there!  
GG: john!!!! if you don’t sleep now youre going to be too tired to do anything!  
GG: you go to sleep right now mister!  
EB: uh… you know it’s only 6 here, right?  
GG: oh well in that case ill let you stay up a little longer.  
GG: but only a little!  
EB: haha, thanks jade.  


  


You talk to Jade for quite a while before she signs off, leaving you with a warning that _“if you don’t get your butt in bed soon you will really regret it!!!!”_ Instead of taking heed of her wise words, you resign yourself to surfing the Internet until your eyes grow heavy with sleep and you nod off. It feels like you’ve closed your eyes for only seconds before your alarm clock is blaring the ghost busters theme song and startling you awake. You flail aimlessly until your hand connects with the snooze button and you can breathe again.

Wasting no time, you finish gathering the few items you still need and get dressed. You’re out the front door 20 minutes later after assuring Dad there is no room in your bag to take the leftover cake with you.

And wow, you’re at the airport! Everything has happened so quickly, it feels as if the last few hours have been on fast-forward!

You drag your luggage along, clunking the whole way through customs, Dad right there with you, making sure you don’t get lost. You really appreciate it, too. You have no clue what’s going on which makes you worry about how you’re going to do this on your own for the way back. Dad takes you as far as he can and explains exactly what you’re going to do after walking through the gate, handing you your passport and ticket. You really hope you remember all this! Uh oh, looks like his eyes are getting watery! You better make this quick before he starts telling you how proud he is again. You find yourself swept into a comforting father-son embrace, and after a few moments of this, you are torn between your anticipation to get on the plane and the twinge of homesickness you feel in your gut It all seems so surreal as you’re making your way to the terminal practically walking backwards to wave at Dad as long as you possibly can before he disappears into a sea of people. And man, are you dizzy from the excitement! Or maybe lack of sleep. You really should listen to Jade more often…

 

\---

> Be the other other guy.   
  
You are now the other other guy, apparently? That doesn't really make sense.

You are now Dirk Strider and aren’t you just peachy fucking keen. You sit at your desk, fiddling with circuit boards and wires, trying to get some work done. Lately you’ve found yourself in somewhat of a… an artist’s block, you suppose you could call it. Nothing you make seems to work out the way you hope and your programming has been mediocre at best. It’s frustrating how it used to be so easy for you, and you wish you could start acting like yourself again. After all, it’s been exactly three months since your heart was ripped from your chest and crushed to pieces by one Jake English.

You’ve locked yourself in your room, away from the world, for the better part of those three months. By now, you should be past all of this, moving on with your life, but instead, here you are. Stuck on a goddamn carousel of mental deterioration, watching for the perfect moment to jump off but always hesitating and letting the opportunity slip by. What the fuck kind of metaphor was that? You can’t even manage to sound like yourself right now.

You’re relieved that it’s summer break now and are no longer forced to see Jake daily, but it doesn’t stop you from thinking about him. Looking back on your relationship, remembering how oblivious you were and how vulnerable he made you feel. For a while, you thought you might have been in love with him. You’d nearly told him too. What a fucking moron you were… He’d broken it off with you not long after that and you realized that he’d never felt as strongly about you as you did him. That’s probably what hurt the most. To him, you were just a fling. Maybe even just him dipping his hormone driven toes into the pool of homosexuality, just for the fun of it, not really caring who he might hurt.

You probably should have seen it coming, though. You act distant and unfeeling towards your classmates. Always seen as the unapproachable cool kid, mysterious behind those exotic pointed shades and never letting anyone in. You thought Jake was different, that he’d seen past your façade to see how sensitive and passionate you really were. Why else would he have approached you like he did? You’d been too hopeful and you’re still kicking your own stupid ass for it.

Your phone buzzing interrupts your thoughts. Good – you were getting pretty sick of being alone with them.

  
\-- turntechGodhead [EB] began pestering timaeusTestified [EB] \-- 

TG: dont touch the food  
TG: this is my own special reserve  
TG: the fridge is now vip only  
TG: and ill let you in on a little secret  
TG: youre not fucking invited  


  


Really? The little shit couldn’t even come and talk to you in person?

You get up from your desk chair, leaving your room and walking where you expect to see daylight streaming in through the living room window. However, you’re greeted with a warm reddish hue cast across the room. How many hours had you wasted in your room? It must be about 8 by now. You could have sworn it was still the early afternoon.

You find Dave standing at the fridge, once again removing the dull blades that were often stored there, replacing them with bags of groceries.

“What’s all this, then?” You ask, leaning against the doorway. Dave shoots you a look that you’re sure mean “You’ve got to be fucking kidding”.

“Shit, I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d be nice to have some real food for when my friend gets here.” He turns back to his groceries – mostly prepackaged foods and microwavable meals like pop tarts and mac ‘n cheese – and continues unloading them. You have to say you forgot about his friend coming to visit. You’ve been in your own world and haven’t paid much attention to your little bro, or anyone but yourself, for that matter.

“You know not everything goes in the fridge. Why the fuck are you putting the pancake mix in there? Gimme that.” You reach past him and attempt to grab it from produce drawer (seriously, what the fuck, lil’ bro) but he swats you away.

“Are you forgetting the part where I told you to keep your grubby paws off this food?” Dave snaps. “Just stay out of the way. He’s only here for two weeks, and since you’ve managed to alienate yourself from the rest of civilization for three months, I’m sure you can handle it a while longer.”  
  
Something’s up with the kid. He’s more on edge than usual. He keeps his straight face, but you can see how tense his jaw is, so you decide you better let him be.

> Take that questionable liquid. 

“Whatever.” Is all you say before grabbing the apple juice from the fridge door and flash stepping back to your room. You hear cries of protest from the kitchen, but Dave doesn’t come after you. You don’t actually like apple juice that much, being an orange soda sort of guy, but you’d hoped it would have gotten a rise out of him. No such luck. So you sit there once again in your poorly lit room, now wondering what could possibly have Dave in such a mood. Maybe things were finally going to get interesting around here. You can only hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who reading this! And all of your comments are really motivating me to write more! I have a lot planned, and I'm hoping to push through the first few chapters quickly so I can get to the good stuff. And feel free to give me some feedback or just come say hi on tumblr too: criedwolves.tumblr.com
> 
> And look, there's already fanart! [flies into the sun]  
> ( http://rika-hatsuya.deviantart.com/art/John-Selfie-387238130 )


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and John finally meet in person. It's not quite how Dave imagined it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, thank you all for reading! And I'm swooning at these lovely comments! I have about 15 more chapters planned out so far, but it might get longer. I'll try to update every few days, but I've got a full time job and don't want to half-ass this fic, so please be patient. In other news, the rating may change later, so, yeah. Things might get heated. *Wiggles eyebrows*
> 
> Also this is a really good song and you should listen to it or whatever. It doesn't really have anything to do with this chapter, but I really like it. [Fall - Cider Sky] http://a.tumblr.com/tumblr_mpwt7bIaKG1qbms81o1.mp3#_=_

Your name is Dave Strider and you are exhausted. It probably has something to do with the fact that you stayed up all night in front of your turntables. You were considerate enough to use your headphones while mixing at 4 in the morning, of course, not that Bro was there to scold you about the volume. Even if he was, hands-on parenting wasn’t really his kind of thing. As long as you didn’t set the house on fire or break his stuff, he was fine with you doing whatever you wanted. Unfortunately for you, a little nagging is exactly what you need.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you wander aimlessly around the airport, keeping close to the Arrivals area. You found out that John’s flight had been delayed two hours and you’d gotten there an hour earlier than you needed to in the first place. This means you had at least three hours kill. You pull out your phone to check for any new messages. There aren’t, obviously. John promised to text you when he got off the plane and that wouldn’t be for a while still. You can’t help but constantly check anyways. You consider pestering Rose or Jade, but immediately decide against it. You haven’t spoken to either of them since your little “I think I’m gay for my best friend” revelation, and those two can see straight through you.

In an attempt to stave off boredom, you make use of the free wifi. It doesn’t work. You opt to distract yourself by irritating the Starbucks staff instead. You order the most ridiculous drink you can think of (Quad Ristretto Iced Venti Whole Milk Organic 3 Pump Vanilla 2 Pump Cinnamon Dolce Extra Hot with Foam and Whipped Cream Upside Down Stirred Latte) and watch as the barista struggles to get it all down, becoming more and more flustered as you repeat it for her just as quickly as the first time. When she finally manages to get your order mostly figured out – you don’t even really know what you ordered, so you can’t really blame her either – you take the furiously inked cup and find a seat.

It’s loud and bright and people are flooding past you on their way to greet relatives or friends coming back from their trips. There is so much going on and it makes you dizzy. Despite the caffeine in your system, you find yourself still fighting to keep your eyes open. After a while, it becomes too much. You feel your breathing slow, your vision blurring, and then blackness swallows you up before you can remember where you are.

> Sleep.

***

You are sitting in your room, trying to remember what you were doing. Oh, right, John. No, you don’t mean you were doing John… Ugh. You were looking for him. Or… waiting for him? Though you can’t put your finger on it, you definitely know it was something to do with John. You are now in front of your computer, delirious biznasty open on the screen, a new message blinking at you.

EB: hi dave!

Before you can type out a response, he’s sent another message.

EB: you’ve been thinking about me haven’t you?

You are caught off guard by the sudden accusation. You are about to reply with something sarcastic and chill, but the fucker’s too quick.

EB: heh heh  
EB: i have too.  
EB: about you, i mean.

What’s going on here? Is John Egbert flirting with you? This can’t actually be happening. You reread the words and confirm that, yeah, apparently it can.

EB: a lot.  
EB: are you excited to see me, dave?

You must be interpreting this wrong. He’s acting pretty strange, though.

EB: because you will be very soon.  
EB: right now, in fact!

You jump when a hand slides over your own. You hadn’t even heard the door open! There is a sigh of warm breath on your neck and without even turning around, you know it’s him. You’d be asking _how the fuck_ , right about now, but to be honest, you’re a little preoccupied. You swivel in your desk chair to see John, leaning over you with a soft expression and hooded eyes. Oh, god, you can’t handle that look. Your face must be bright red by now, but he doesn’t comment. He doesn’t say anything. You had always thought he’d be the type to never shut up, so this is a little surprising.

“John.” You say dumbly. You just keep staring at each other until he flutters his eyes shut and waits.

> Kiss him, you moron.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. You close the few inches of space that hangs between you.

…And you’re kissing. You can’t recall anything ever feeling better than this, and you’re not sure if it’s because nothing ever has or if you’re just too blissed out to think. Maybe it’s both? Either way, you melt into him as your lips press together, his mouth opening in invitation. It would absolutely rude to refuse. You trace the inside of his mouth with your tongue and he responds in happy little sighs. You let your hands brush across the small of his back as he tugs at your shirt, begging for more contact.

It isn’t until you’re lying on your bed with him crawling onto your lap that you realize you’ve moved at all. Your pulse quickens at the sight of him on top of you, a goofy grin on his face. Your pants are getting too tight too be comfortable and you shift awkwardly to relieve the pressure.

“Dave.”

It’s John’s voice. It’s the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

“Dave.”

This time you can’t hold back the moan from escaping your lips. You’d be embarrassed if your brain wasn’t so fuzzy right now.

***

 

“DAVE!”

You jump at the sound of your name being shouted at your face rather than whispered in your ear as you had expected. Your heart is pounding and your palms are sweaty and you’re pretty sure that wet blotch you feel on your chin is drool. Awesome. Oh, god, your jeans are still tighter than you’d like and you can only hope that it isn’t noticeable. It takes you a second to think about where you are and who was saying your n– oh, shit.

John is in front of you, watching you fumble around, with a huge grin on his face. He’s right fucking there. Not two feet from you. He is tangible and very much existing. Which makes you think back on that dream you’d just woken up from… you know what, how about we forget about that for now because John fucking Egbert is staring at you, waiting for your dumb ass to say something back.

> Stop gaping and say something cool.

“Yo.” Well, it’s better than nothing.

John bursts into a fit of laughter and wow, you never want to stop hearing that laugh. You straighten up to stand in front of him, your poker face sliding easily back into place. He’s shorter than you by a few inches, you notice. The other thing you notice is how those blue eyes of his are so much brighter in person, if that’s even possible. They’re so very… alive.

“What the hell, dude,” You say after another few seconds of silent staring. “Where’s my ‘world famous Egbert hug’? I was promised the most memorable hug of my life and you are failing to deliver, bro. Seriously, I want my money ba-”

Before you can dive into one of your long-winded and exaggerated speeches about nothing in particular, he’s leaping at you and wrapping his arms around your neck. He knocks you off balance but you catch yourself before you can fall to the floor with him on top of you. You don’t need a repeat performance from earlier. At least not right here in the Arrivals of the Houston airport.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” He giggles into your shoulder. You’re not kidding when you say giggle. He sounds ridiculous and adorable and you’re staring to wonder how you’re going to handle two weeks of this and not become completely addicted. You might not want to let him leave.

“Well I’m sure as hell not Nic Cage, so you don’t have to worry about this being one of your wet dreams.” Okay, can you stop bringing up wet dreams now? Your face is probably still bright red and you’re a little thankful that he can’t see it.

“Haha, ew!” You feel his body shake against you when he laughs. He pulls back – much too soon in your opinion, but you guess people are probably starting to look over at the two of you suspiciously – and grabs his suitcase from behind him, then looks at you expectantly. You ruffle his hair before turning to lead the way.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

\---

 

> Ascend.

You are now John Egbert and you’re pretty sure you’re going to faint. Luckily you have a handsome southern gentleman here to catch you if you do!

That was a joke! Seriously, though, he’s got a really silly accent and everything.

Anyways, there is a very good reason why you feel like you’re about to pass out. You have just climbed about 19 flights of stairs, dragging your luggage up half of them. At first you were too stubborn to let Dave help you, but the more you climbed, the heavier it seemed to get. Somewhere around floor 10 you finally gave in let Dave take over. He probably did this daily, so your masculinity wasn’t hurt too bad.

You still arrive at floor 19 panting and sweating. Dave had hardly broken a sweat. He even joked about carrying you up if you couldn’t handle it on your own. In response, you playfully tripped him and sprinted up two flights of stairs laughing like a maniac. You severely regret that choice. You collapsed shortly after the second flight, and a few minutes later, Dave casually walked by you with a smug look on his face. Your Prankster’s Gambit had taken a bit of a hit from that. Anyways, here you were, in front of apartment 19b, struggling to catch your breath.

The two of you entered silently, Dave looking a little cautious.

“I think the coast is clear for now,” he confirms and waves you in further, as if you’re on some covert operation. You don’t know why he’s so reluctant for you to meet his bros. Some of things he’s told you about them, well, yeah, they’re pretty weird, but they can’t be all that bad! Besides, everybody thinks their family is the most embarrassing. It’s sort of a rule.

> Enjoy some well-earned bro time.

Dave sits on the couch in front of the huge tv and you flop down next to him, making a big show of how utterly exhausted you are. He puts on Adventure Time re-runs – you don’t really pay attention to them, you’ve seen them all like a billion times – and just talk, sprawled out next to each other as if you’d been doing this everyday after school for years. He talks about the new music he mixed the night before, promising to show you later, and you tell him about your flight, the shitty airplane food, the even shittier movies they played (he raised a judgmental eyebrow which you ignored), and about the going-away-prank Dad had pulled. He made some offhanded comment about your Dad and his “weird bukkake cake fantasy”. You coughed out a “AUGH, DAVE! GROSS!” and punched him in the arm for good measure. The conversation went on, every once in a while a silence settled, but it was comfortable. Eventually Dave got up and walked over to grab your suitcase from beside the front door. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you with a shake of his head.

“Wait here for a moment, okay? I’m just gonna throw this stuff in my room and then I can give you a proper tour of Casa del Strider”

He disappears down the hallway, the sound of little plastic wheels growing distant. You turn back to the tv.

“Hey, twink.”

You nearly shit yourself when the voice comes from directly behind you. A second later there’s a little plush hand in your lap and two terrifying beady eyes looking at you. You flail a bit at the sudden invasion and notice a tall blond man in a baseball cap now standing right in front of you. When did he move there?

“Um, what?”

“So you’re Dave’s little friend, huh?” The man has a smirk on his face, watching you through his pointy triangular sunglasses. It’s a bit unnerving. “Well done, little bro.” He nods slowly, looking you over. Wow, this got uncomfortable fast.

“Yeah, I’m John!” you say, politely holding your hand out to him. You assume he’s Dave guardian, ‘Bro’. “Uh, thanks for having me, Mr. Strider.”

He chuckles and mutters something under his breath, ignoring your extended hand. Dave returns and immediately stiffens when he sees Bro looming over you.

“Bro, stop trying to freak him out!” Dave protests, picking up the strange ventriloquist clown doll thing that was placed beside you and shoving it at the older man. “And keep your creepy ass puppets to yourself!”

“You mean the creepy-ass puppets or the creepy ass-puppets? Just so we’re on the same page here.”

“Bro!” Dave looks as mortified as is possible while retaining his cool-kid face. Bro looks over his glasses and winks at you before he practically disappears right in front of your eyes.

“Geez, what was that all about?” You blurt, still a little dumbfounded. “How did he move so fast?”

“I told you about the flash-stepping, didn’t I?” Dave answers. “I can do it too. Not quite as quick as Bro, though.”

“Wow, really? That’s super cool! Can you show me?”

You see the briefest smile before he blurs out. You hear what must be the fridge open and a second later he’s in front of you again, taking a swig of cold apple juice. You watch in awe. You can tell he likes that you’re impressed as well. He plops down into his seat next to you again.

“What about your other bro?” you inquire, “Is he just as… uh… interesting?”

Dave shrugs. “He’s not quite as bad. He mostly stays in his room. I’d be surprised if we saw him at all today.”

“Oh.” You’re a bit disappointed, to be honest. Sure, Striders were a strange breed, but you got along fine with Dave and his brother was only a few years older. Who knows, maybe you could all be friends! You both resume watching tv. You remember something before you get too sucked in.

“Um, Dave?” You ask, catching his glance over at you, still drinking, but nodding to show he’s listening. “Uh… What’s a twink?”

Dave chokes on his juice and you can’t help but laugh a little.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets the other Strider. *wiggles eyebrows*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer to write than I planned I just needed to get it out of the way so I could get onto the good stuff. I'll hopefully be updating more often now! Go ahead and leave me comments, too. They help motivate me!

You are once again Dirk Strider and you are fucking starving. 

> Get some grub.

If only it were that easy. It turns out that not only did Dave stock up the fridge with his food, but he threw out all the leftover take out as well. There had been some perfectly edible chow mein in there that you were planning on finishing. You slam the fridge shut.

You’re already starting to get sick of his shit. What was the big deal with this friend that was coming to stay? Dave rarely put this much effort into anything, so it must be pretty important. Either way, you don’t really care, you just want to work on your robotics in peace and eat some goddamn food. Looks like you were going to have to bitch him out. It’s the only reasonable course of action for a mature individual such as yourself.

You make your way down the hallway and knock on Dave’s door. Nobody answers.

“Dave,” You call through the closed door and raise your eyebrow at the ironic glitter glue sign taped to it that reads: _Bachelor Pad_.

You wait a moment and when there’s no reply, you knock again. “Dave, open the damn door, I know you’re in there. I can hear you shuffling around.” Without waiting more than 10 seconds you barge in and instantly freeze.

Sprawled out on the bed is Dave’s friend. He’s got his eyes shut and a pair of massive headphones on, completely unaware of your presence as he swings his leg off the side of the bed. His hands are tucked under the back of his head and the bottom of his shirt has ridden up to reveal his flat stomach. When you look at his face, calm and happy – he’s obviously absorbed in the music – you can’t help but think of how much he looks like Jake. Maybe a little smaller and paler, but wow. They could be cousins or something.

You admire him from the doorway for another minute before you realize what you’re doing. Way to be a fucking creep.

> Abscond.

You quickly shut the door again and lean against it. He was… kinda hot. Maybe you could take one more quick look just to make sure - Fuck, no. You were absconding, remember?

You start off down the hallway, not looking back. As you’re on your way to your room, Dave opens the bathroom door with a towel around his waist. He eyes you suspiciously as you stare pointedly past him and try to continue on your route.

“Are where are you running off to in such a hurry?” He asks. “Or should I be asking where from?”

“Don’t know what ‘cha mean.” You play it cool, ruffling his perfectly styled hair. He swats your hand away and grimaces.

“Sure you don’t. Just stay in your room and don’t bother me and John, okay?”

“John, hmm?” So that was his name. You have nearly forgotten the reason you were looking for Dave in the first place – your mind is elsewhere. That “elsewhere” being at the other end of the hall, still staring down at the kid. As Dave turns to leave, you quickly add, “By the way, if you’re going to throw out all the other food, don’t expect me to keep my hands off yours.”

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t eat all the good stuff. Poptarts are still off-limits. You touch them and so help me God –“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Plague of locust, frogs raining from the sky, I know the drill.”

You both head back to your respective rooms.

It was clear that Dave was on edge, and now you think you know why. You’d be pretty high-strung too if _that_ was sharing your room for the next two weeks.

You spend the next few hours attempting to finish up your modifications on your Auto-Responder, but your mind keeps wandering to the dark-haired boy. In an attempt to distract yourself, you go to make yourself a midnight snack. There isn’t really much of a routine when it comes to your eating and sleeping schedule. When you’re hungry, you eat, when you’re tired you sleep, and that’s that.

Silently, you enter the kitchen. You’re not alone.

 

\---

 

You are now John Egbert and –

“Yo.”

You let out a yelp as a voice sounds from a few feet away and the glass you had been holding onto slips from your grasp. Half a second later a tall blond boy is standing before you with the glass you just dropped in his hand. He looks down at you through his pointy shades.

Stupid Striders and their stupid flash-stepping.

You swear they must be part cat or something. They all move much too quietly and are ridiculously fast. You kick yourself for letting your guard down. You really need to keep on your toes around these guys.

Your heart is still pounding as you take the offered glass from the older boy. Wow, he’s standing really close. You should probably say something because you’ve been gaping at him for a good minute now and he probably thinks you’re mentally deficient.

“Uh, thanks! Sorry about that, you just sort of snuck up on me there.” You rub the back of your neck and give him a nervous smile. “You must be Dirk! I’m John, Dave’s friend.” You don’t bother holding out your hand this time. You learned your lesson while dealing with the eldest Strider.

“Who else would I be?” His face remains expressionless, but you can hear a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You’re not quite sure what to say next, so you take a sip of water and look away. He turns to the fridge and pulls out a box of poptarts. That sure is a strange place for those to be. He unwraps a packet and shoves one in his mouth, holding the other out to you as he leans against the counter beside you. You take it gladly.

“So what are you doing up so late?” He asks, glancing at the clock on the microwave. It’s just past 2 in the morning.

“Jet lag. Couldn’t sleep.” You answer around the hunk of pastry you tactlessly shoved into your mouth. Crumbs fall down your shirt and you swear you see him smile for a second. You quickly swallow before you begin speaking again. “What about you?”

“Working on some stuff.” He shrugs.

“You mean like robot stuff?”

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Man, this guy was being pretty aloof. You wonder if you’re bothering him? Oh, well. You were going to do your best to make a good impression. You were determined! “I think it’s really neat! I wish I could make robots. I’d make one for, like, cleaning my room, and one to do my homework for me… Oh, and one that could set up pranks and record them and then play them in slow-mo with hilarious sound effects!” Okay, now you’re rambling. “Do you, uh, think you could show me sometime?”

“Yeah, sure. Why the hell not.” He walks away from you and stops at the doorway. “Well? You coming?”

“Oh, right now?”

“You got something better to do?”

You shake your head and put down your glass before following him down the hall, past Dave’s room. You glance through the crack in the door to see that he’s still sleeping. You’re just going to check out some cool robot junk, no big deal. Dave won’t even notice you’re gone anyways.

You enter Dirk’s room and immediately start observing. He’s got a workbench covered in wires, circuitry, scrap metal, and all kinds of tools strewn about. You see a lot of silly-looking plushies scattered on the floor in haphazard piles and posters of horses adorn the walls… and a My Little Pony poster? Huh.

Dirk sits in his desk chair and swivels around to face you. “Squarewave and Sawtooth,” he introduces, pointing his thumb at the two metal figures in the corner.

“Woah, awesome!” You walk over to inspect them more closely. “What do they do?”

“They’re made for rap-battling. Wanna try it out?”

> Spit some sick rhymes.

No, that’s a terrible idea! You can’t rap! You’d rather not embarrass yourself more than you probably already have. Instead of doing that, you just talk. He shows you some of the other stuff he’s working on and you listen intently because this is actually really interesting! After that you talk about whatever comes to mind – talking to Dirk is really easy! – and before you know it, you’ve wasted away 2 hours. You tell him you better get to bed and he wishes you a goodnight in return. You sort of feel like you’re floating as you walk back to Dave’s room. You’re not really sure why. Probably because that went a lot better than you expected!

You flop down on the blow-up mattress beside Dave, and despite how giddy and restless you feel, you fall asleep quickly.

 

> Be that obnoxious morning person.

You can’t help it! Even though you’d only gone to bed a few hours ago, you wake up at 8am on the dot and are ready to start the day!

“Daaaaaaave!” you sing, pulling on the blankets which he’s buried himself under. How the hell is he not dying of heat stroke under there? “Time to wake up!”

“No.”

“YES!”

You leap onto his bed and begin jumping. He kicks at your legs and you tumble on top of him, giggling like a crazy person.

“Mmmphff umf!”

“What was that?” You roll off him so he can speak properly.

“Fuck you, Egbert.”

It takes Dave another few minutes to finally get him out of bed. When you follow him to the kitchen, Dirk is already having breakfast. He gives you knowing look from behind his shades, but doesn’t mention the night before.

Dave starts talking about your plans for the day, but you don’t really listen because you’re watching Dirk meticulously sift through his Froot Loops. He eats everything but the orange ones, which he saves for last. It’s kinda cute.

No. He’s not cute. Stop thinking that.

Dave is still talking when Bro saunters into the room, swinging a pair of handcuffs around his finger. Hey, that’s part of your prankster kit! Why does he have them?

“Damn kid, didn’t think you’d be into the kinky stuff.” He throws them at you and you fumble to catch them. You notice Dave and Dirk are looking at you with matching surprised expressions and your face flushes bright red.

“Wh-what? No! They’re just for fun!”

“I bet.” Bro doesn’t even try to hide his amusement.

“Oh god, no, they’re just for pranks!”

“Bro,” Dave finally chimes in. “What the fuck are you doing going through his stuff? That’s hella creepy.” He tries to look annoyed, but by the way he’s pursing his lips, he’s fighting off a smile.

“Wasn’t like I was sniffing his panties or nothin’. I have the right to know who’s living under my roof for the next two weeks, little man.” Bro retorts. “’Sides, I’m not the kinky little fuck with the handcuffs.”

“Oh my gosh, please stop talking.” You cover your face with your hands and drop you head to the table.

“I like you, kid.” He nods at you then turns to Dave and adds “Yeah, he can stay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which skateboarding is an excuse for boys touching.
> 
> Also, did someone say mangrit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I wrote this all last night at like 1am. Whoops.
> 
> Anyways, I'll be changing the rating next chapter to M. I'll post it pretty soon too, but you'll have to be patient with me this week! I've got a big con coming up this weekend and still need to finish three cosplays. [nervous laughing]

You seem, once again, to be Dave Strider, and you’re getting very impatient. You're leaning against the kitchen counter as John contemplates his choices, tapping your foot as obnoxiously as possible.

“Hmm…” John hums thoughtfully.

“Jesus, Egbert, hurry up. By the time you decide we’ll have wasted the whole day.”

“If it was up to you, we’d still be sleeping!” He frowns and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Alright, alright. It’s just really hard to decide what to do first!”

“We’ve got two weeks. That’s plenty of time for all the lame stuff you want to do as well as all the cool stuff I want to do to make up for all of the aforementioned lame stuff.”

He sticks his tongue out at you because he’s apparently 4 years old or something. “Fine. Why don’t we start by going to the skate park so you can show me the ‘sick moves’ you’re always talking about? How’s that for cool?”

“Well, yeah, because it was my idea in the first place.” You scoff. “Hold up for a second, I’ll grab my board.” You quickly duck into your room and rummage around the pile ‘o junk that’s been collecting mass in your corner – you tried cleaning, but you just sort of cleared the everything off most of the floor and shoved in one secluded area instead – and pull out your board. It’s old and beat up and looks like it’s going to snap at any moment. It’s got character, you argue. But you know that yeah, its expected life span can’t be more than a few weeks. 

You’ve only been gone a couple minutes, but when you come back out you see Dirk’s left his room too and is talking to John. That’s weird. Dirk barely even leaves his room for food, and when he does, he definitely doesn’t go out of his way to chat with anyone. And now he’s standing with John (a little too closely, in your opinion) and being all buddy-buddy. You can’t say you like it.

John is talking happily, unaware of the proximity of the other boy. When he finally sees you over the taller boy’s shoulder and he cuts off mid-sentence.

“Hey, Dave! You didn’t tell me Dirk skateboards too!” He turns to your brother with a goofy grin. “You should totally come with us! Right, Dave?” He glances back at you with his big stupid eyes and a hopeful expression and you just can’t say no. You’re not about to say yes either, though, so you stick with saying nothing. John takes it as a yes anyways.

Dirk cranes his neck to look at you and raises an eyebrow.

_Mind if I tag along?_

You return the look with one of your own.

_Yes, I fucking mind._

“Yeah, sure. I’ll come.” Dirk gives you a smug look and you only barely resist the urge to punch it off his face. Instead, you give him another warning look as he goes to grab his board.

You’d be pretty angry right now if it weren’t for the way John’s looking at you. His smile is wide and obnoxious. You want to punch him in the mouth as well.

…but softly. With your own mouth.

 

\---

 

Your name is Dirk Strider and you happen to be on the receiving end of a very nasty glare. John is sitting in the uncomfortable vinyl seat next to you, going on about “this one time when he was camping” or something like that. You’re not really paying very close attention because you’re busy watching his lips moving and simultaneously ignoring your brother’s death-glare. The bus ride to the park isn’t long and before you know it, you’re at your stop.

John is walking next to you, Dave trailing behind, moping like a child who has to share his favourite toy. He should really be thankful for the break - this kid is talking your ear off. It's sort of endearing how he'll just say whatever comes to mind, though. It doesn’t bother you because you're not that big on talking. Maybe it's because you never really took the time to learn how to properly socialize. More accurate to say that you never cared enough to. And hey, it's not like you're not saying anything. You get a few words in edgewise - mostly sarcastic remarks and witty responses - and he laughs like they're the most clever things he's ever heard. Other than that, he's perfectly complacent with your nods or grunts in place of actual replies, not even stopping to catch his breath before continuing.

"Oh hey, look!" He stops walking, and points across the playground you're walking past. "It's one of those robot guys!" With a weird almost skip sort of half jog thing (a trot, maybe? Or more of a canter.) he beelines right for the street performer in silver body paint. How tacky. Dave follows closely behind John without protest while you trail lazily after.

"Yo, calm the hell down before you wet your pants." Dave mumbles as he finds his spot beside John. "Seriously, have you never seen one of these shitty robot dudes before?" John throws some money in the bucket in front of the statuesque figure and he pretends to start up. He slowly flexes as if he was waking up, but with rigid, machine-like movements. This is already painful to watch.

"Come on, Dirk!"

> Watch this atrocious display of entertainment.

You join the slowly forming crowd, placing yourself on John's other side. He leans towards you without taking his eyes off the performance and whispers "Your robots are _so_ much cooler."

You try very hard not to smile. You fail miserably.

After the show is over, the performer runs out of battery or whatever that ridiculous spectacle was and returns to his original pose. John then attempts to demonstrate his own robot impression complete with sound effects and hilarious facial expressions. It's absolutely terrible, but entertaining nonetheless. Dave then shows him how it's done, laying out a few moves before moonwalking until he's adjacent with the busker and powers down.

"Alright, you win, Dave." John chuckles and holds out Dave's skateboard to return it to him. He doesn't make any move to take it. John abandons it and begins waving his hands in front of your brother's face, watching for any signs of life. No luck.

"I think we lost him." You deadpan. "Might as well leave him behind."

"No way! I can get him to break."

A few minutes of silly faces, insulting impersonations, and tickling - for which you must admit Dave is holding together spectacularly well considering how ticklish he is - and John is just about ready to give up.

...Or not.

"You leave me no choice Dave." He pretends to roll up his sleeves and huffs out a breath. "I hope you're ready to witness some true mangrit!" Without a pause, John is slinging Dave over his shoulder, the other boy still attempting to stay straight as a board in his arms. John walks by you with a satisfied smirk, holding up your brother with one arm. _Damn._ You hadn't noticed those arms before. Kid's got some serious guns. That was pretty hot.

"Jesus shit, Egbert," Dave finally gives up and begins squirming in his grasp. "You can put me down now!"

"See, Dirk? Told you I'd get him! Hope I didn't hurt you masculinity too much, Dave."

"Please. I could be wearing a dress and pigtails, dolled up like the most harijuku piece of ass in this city and still be the most manly thing you've ever seen."

John doesn't stop giggling the rest of the way to the skate park and you notice Dave's expression is a lot less sour then you'd normally expect.

When you arrive, Dave wastes no time, immediately hopping onto his board, ready to show off. He's always been like that though. Not many people know the Dave beneath the front he puts up, but you can count yourself as one of them. You idly wonder if the same can be said for John.

> Make a move.

While Dave is bus kickflipping and ollieing too impress the onlookers - mostly John, you'd bet - you find the perfect opportunity to do just that. Might as well.

"Judging by how impressed you look currently look, it's safe to say you've never tried it. Correct?"

"Me? Skateboard? Yeah right." John scoffs at the ridiculous notion. "I don't have the balance for it."

"You should try it out. It's not difficult once you get used to it." You set down your board and motion him closer. "Here, I can help you out."

"Whoa, wait, are you serious?" He holds up his hand and steps back. "I'm just going to wind up getting someone hurt. And there's a 98.4% chance that that someone is me."

"Chill out. I promise you won't get hurt." You motion to him again and he steps towards you reluctantly.

"This won't end well and I'm totally blaming you."

"Put your feet on the board." You instruct. He wobbles as he tries to lift his second foot on and you use it as an excuse to put your hands on his hips. "Steady. You're doing fine, just relax.

"Y-yup!" He stutters. "Relaxed is my middle name. Frankie Goes To Hollywood's got nothing on me!" He lets out a nervous laugh and you can see the tips of his ears go red from you position behind him.

"You okay to move?"

He nods in response and you roll him gently sideways. The slow, controlled movement is fine for him, so when you feel like he's probably ready, you push him and release your grip. He doesn't get far before he realizes your hands are gone and freaks out. He falls backwards, and you flash-step behind him so he falls onto you, grabbing your hands for balance.

"I told you you could trust me." You say into his ear, smirking.

You break contact when you hear someone clearing their throat loudly behind you.

"Hey, John." Dave calls. "You coming?" John is quick to comply.

"Uh, yeah, hold on!" he calls back. John gives you a toothy grin, cheeks bright red, as he starts in Dave's direction. "Thanks for the lesson, Dirk! It was fun! I think I should probably stick with my bike though." He runs over to Dave and meets him with a bro fist bump as they walk away.

Your brother is such a fucking cock-block.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Bonerville: population Dave Strider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I'M SO SORRY THIS IS REALLY LATE  
> I promise I'll update more often starting after the con this weekend! I'll have Katie harass me if I don't.

> Be the hot boy.

That's exactly who you are. Because John Egbert was not made to withstand Texan summers. You are pretty sure you're dying of heat stroke right now, actually.

Summers in Washington never got this hot. There were days you’d lie around in your boxers because it was too hot to do anything, yeah. But this was just ridiculous. Even with the air conditioner (which is a piece of shit that barely works), the stuffy little apartment feels like a sauna.

That’s exactly why you’re at the pool today. The water is nice and cool and the humid air doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating you as much. Not to mention it’s fun splashing and dunking Dave. He looked pretty hilarious soaking wet and still wearing those dumb glasses. Sort of like a disgruntled cat who just had a bath. And you discovered that Dave has lots of freckles! You knew about the ones that dusted his cheeks and nose, but you didn’t know they trailed across his shoulders and neck too. You admit that you’re jealous of his tan skin. Unlike you, he doesn’t have to put on sunscreen every half an hour to avoid getting burned.

Before long, you get him into a full-blown dunk war. It doesn’t last long, though, because you both swallow and bunch of water and pull yourselves out of the pool, gasping for breath. Once you recover, you move to the shady patch of grass where you left your towels.

“Dave, you look like a doofus wearing your shades in the pool.” You say, nudging him with your foot. “Why don’t you just take them off?”

“No way, man.” He nudges you back a little harder. “Gotta get my ironic shades tanline.”

“Nobody’s even going to see it if you never take them off!” You reach forward to snatch them but he’s too quick. He grabs your wrists and holds you off. “Come on! I wanna see your dumb tanline!”

You push harder and he leans backwards, away from your hands. When he’s not expecting it, you leap at him and he falls off balance, onto his back. You’re on top of him struggling to free your hands from the vice grip he has on your wrists, but he’s just to damn fast! You see him flash a smile and then a second later he’s rolling you over and pinning your hands down. He ends up straddling your hips and you wiggle beneath him, kicking your legs wildly.

“Dave!” you whine, still thrashing around. When you stop you notice the other boy’s face is really close to yours and he’s not smiling anymore. You stare at your own reflection in his shades for a moment, both of you panting lightly. Without warning he’s pulling away. He stands up and brushes off the dirt that clings to his still damp skin.

“So, uh…” He clears his throat and fixes his glasses, which went askew during your little scuffle. “I think it’s about time for pool noodle sword fight round two. It’s been over half an hour since I kicked your ass and we need to fix that.”

When you get back to the apartment sometime after 4, Dave suggests you play video games. You’re happy to oblige and you last about 20 minutes before you can’t take the heat anymore. And that’s how you wind up face down on the kitchen floor.

"Dave," you wheeze, face pressed into the cool linoleum. "I don't think I'm gonna make it.”

"Don't be such a pussy." He replies, stepping over you to get to the fridge. The son of a bitch is wearing a long sleeve top and black skinny jeans too. What the actual fuck.

"It's like a bazillion degrees. I'm being completely reasonable here."

You hear some rustling of plastic and the slam of the fridge door, but don't have the energy to unsmush your face from the floor to look at what he's doing. Suddenly there's something cold down the back of your shirt.

"What the-" You squeak and sit up so fast you bump your head against the counter. A wrapped popsicle falls out the back of your shirt and you snatch it up happily. Dave is leaning against the counter with his own popsicle, a hint of a smile on his lips. You examine the cold treat through the plastic.

"What, no blue?" You pout.

"I thought you were dying? I seem recall that quite vividly since it happened about two fucking minutes ago. But, hey, if you don't want it, I can always take it-"

"No, red's fine!" You hold your popsicle protectively away from Dave. "This is me not complaining. Not at all. Nope.”

 

\---

 

Your name is Dave Strider and the only thing you can think about right now is John Egbert’s fucking mouth. Jesus Christ. He’s sucking on the cherry popsicle noisily, making unholy slurping sounds as he pulls it slowly from between his lips until it pops out. He runs his tongue up the side from the base to the tip in one fluid motion and the pushes it right back into his mouth. You now know the true meaning of torture.

You can feel your dick twitch when John makes eye contact with you, pulling the popsicle from his mouth again to giggle at you. _Jesusmotherfucking-_

“Dave, your popsicle is melting.” He informs you. You’ve got a sticky, cherry-flavoured mess all over your hands. Good one, genius. You sigh and grab a paper towel to wipe it up, trying to ignore the wet smacking sounds from John’s direction. Does he even know what he’s doing? No, he can’t. Can he?

This is what was so frustrating about John. Half the time he was joking, and the other half he was genuinely oblivious. If he was doing this purposefully, then you’d have to admit it’s a pretty effective prank. At the same time, he probably wasn’t expecting his best friend to get a hard on because of him. You’re pretty sure John is straight. Not that he’s ever really gone after any girls or anything – he’d tell you if he did, you’re bros - but he’s also never given you much reason to think he’s gay. The guy’s sexuality was a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, packed neatly into Schrödinger’s box. You need to grow a pair and make a move if you ever want to find out.

***

> Wake up.

You’re short of breath and slightly damp with sweat. Another wet dream about your best bro. Just fucking fantastic. It isn't really your fault, though. He's the one who eats popsicles like he’s in a porno. And not even that cheap, amateur stuff either. You're talking $20 monthly subscription grade porn star. You're pretty sure he's not even doing it on purpose, and that just makes it even hotter. The throbbing boner you’ve got is proof of that.

You sit up and look over to see John's still asleep on his bed. It must be really early because the sun's still down and the room is dark. You lie back down and consider your options. You could go take care of this in the shower. It's probably a little early for that though and you're feeling pretty lazy. On the other hand, your current roommate is a heavy sleeper. He fell asleep on the couch halfway through Die Hard 2 and didn't even wake up during the fight scene where the guy got sucked into the jet engine. It had taken a few minutes of shaking him to rouse him after the movie was over. You had to resort to tickling his feet in the end.

Okay, you can't ignore your dick for much longer, because it's starting to get uncomfortable. You have to admit, the thought of doing it right here, with him in the same room is kinda turning you on. Yeah, it’s pretty creepy, you guess, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

“John,” you whisper, just to make sure he’s still fast asleep. The only response is his slow constant breathing, assuring you that he’s still very much unconscious.

You kick off your sheets and slide you hand down under the waistband of your boxers. Shutting your eyes, you wrap your hand around yourself and begin stroking gently. You work yourself slowly, thinking about how John is hardly 3 feet away from you. Close enough that you could reach over and touch him. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You tighten your grip as you imagine him watching you with lust-filled eyes, lips swollen from you biting them. You think about what he’d look like beneath you, writhing in pleasure that you are giving him. You can almost hear the sounds he’d make, desperate moans and deep sighs and-

You aren’t imagining those sighs.

You freeze when you hear a rustling beside you. You glance over to John, who is shifting around on the blow-up mattress, muttering quietly. He rolls to face you and… oh thank god, his eyes are still closed. He settles back into his pillow and resumes his low breathing.

A wave of adrenaline floods through you. The idea of almost being caught makes your skin warm and your breath come faster. You start stroking yourself again, rougher and faster this time. You pretend the hand on you belongs to John, that he’s moaning your name into your ear over and over again. Dave… Dave… Dave… You’re thrusting up into your own hand now, desperate for more contact. You want John’s hands on you, tracing over your thighs, sliding up you sides, pulling your hair. You want his mouth sucking on your neck, licking your collarbone, kissing down your stomach to your – Fuck.

You come hard in your boxers, biting your hand to muffle your whimpers.

After you’ve come down again, still panting, you look over at your roomie. He’s still out cold. Shit, you weren’t even that quiet about it either. You smile to yourself, feeling satisfied. You’re pretty sure you’ve never had a wank that good. Not even Miss July 2007 got you as wound up as that, and she was your go-to centerfold.

You quietly grab a fresh pair of boxers and climb back into bed. You’re tired now and going back to sleep for a few more hours sounds like a pretty good plan.

> Ignore your problems.

Yes, that also sounds like a good plan. You don’t really want to deal with the John issue any time soon. You’ve still got a week and a half left for that. And you’re still not sure if you want to deal with it at all. But if you make things awkward by telling him how you feel, you’d rather do it closer to when he has to leave. For now, you just want to enjoy his friendship before you potentially fuck everything up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John runs into Bro, spends some time with Dirk, and everyone gets breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE.  
> But I'm finally done with my summer job, so that means more time for writing!

Your name is John Egbert and the sun is finally up. That means you are too! No sense in wasting the short time you have with Dave by sleeping half the day away. It’s just past 6 in the morning and you decide to be merciful and let Dave rest a bit longer while you take a shower.

You grab a clean towel from the pile that Dave keeps in his room, hidden away from his brothers – apparently clean towels are a hot commodity in this apartment. The door creeks as you open it and you peer into the hallway, making sure the coast is clear. You’re pretty sure none of the Striders would be awake right now anyways, so you tip-toe down the hallway to the bathroom and slip inside. You’re met with a pair of glassy blue eyes.

“Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first, kid?” said a deep voice. You look away from Lil’ Cal’s terrifying, pale visage to find Bro stepping out of the shower with nothing but a small towel wrapped around his hips. Well, that and his shades. Did he wear those while showering? God, these Striders were all insane. Okay, you can think about that later. Right now there is a very nearly naked man standing in front of you.

“Didn’t, uh,” You fumble for words, blatantly staring at the older man. “…anyone teach you to lock the door?” You avert your eyes when you notice his shades are still facing you and you’re pretty sure he’s staring back. Your face is getting hot.

“It’s my place, ain’t it?”

“Right, sorry. I didn’t think anyone else would be up yet! I didn’t mean to, um, yeah.” You hesitate a moment and then point your thumb over your shoulder. “I’ll just-”

“Jesus, you spook easily, don’t you?” Bro chuckles. “I’m done now. Shower’s all yours.” He struts past you, swinging his hips and smirking. You feel something whack your ass and you’re pretty sure it was a wet towel. You’re also pretty sure Bro only had one towel with him and he was wearing it. That means–

>Eyes front, soldier.

You quickly shut the door. You are not alone, though. Lil’ Cal is still sitting on the toilet seat, staring at you with dead eyes. You throw a hand towel over him so he can’t watch and then strip off your clothes. The mirror is fogged from Bro’s shower – you have no clue how he could withstand a hot shower when you’re in the middle of a heat wave – and you wipe a little circle to see your reflection. Your hair is a mess, that was expected. It’s damp with sweat and sticks up in all directions from sleeping on it funny. You turn the shower on and let the water run luke warm before stepping in.

You spend a long time in the shower, just letting the water cool you off. You definitely do not think about Bro’s sculpted body. You didn’t even notice his toned arms. Nor do you think about Dirk and his narrow hips. Nope. Dave doesn’t even cross your mind with his lean frame and long legs. No Striders are preoccupying your mind right now, no way. This is John time.

> Keep telling yourself that.

When you’re finished your shower, you head back to Dave’s room. You slip on a fresh t-shirt and boxers and then approach Dave’s bed. He’s still asleep, obviously. Time to change that.

Grabbing the alarm clock you brought from home, you hop onto the bed, kneeling next to your friend. You lean over him and plug it into the closest outlet. Red numbers flash as it comes to life and you quickly set alarm to go off in one minute. You feel your prankster’s gambit swell with excitement as the seconds tick by and then…

_WHEN THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE…_

He startles awake and you burst into laughter at the face he makes. When he’s recovered, he flops right back down onto the mattress and grumbles a few unpleasant words. He moves to draw his blankets over himself only to realize you’re pining them to the bed. His pitiful tugging lasts about 20 seconds before he gives up.

“Really? You have to wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn every fucking morning?” Dave whines, voice thick with sleep.

“I don’t want to waste a single minute I can spend with my best bro!”

“Do you have to be so cruel about it?” He reaches blindly for his glasses on the bedside table and slips them onto his face.

“Oh, believe me, there are much worse ways I could have woken you up. Consider yourself lucky.”

You proceed to drag Dave to the kitchen for breakfast. He riffles through the boxes of stale cereal, moaning.

“Why don’t we have something slightly more edible this morning?” You suggest, opening the fridge to examine your options. Hmm. The Striders sure seemed to like their junk food.

“That’s it. Were making pancakes.” Dave decides. You are so down for that. He grabs a frying pan and fiddles with the stovetop. You lean against a counter to watch as Dave grabs the pancake mix from the fridge and wonder who the hell thought it belonged in there. He doesn’t grab anything else though, which you find strange. When the pan’s heated up, he opens the box.

“What the hell is this shit?” He turns to you, holding the box of pancake mix as if it killed his family. You roll your eyes.

“You need to add eggs and milk and whatever. Duh!” You can’t help but snicker at him. “Haven’t you ever made pancakes before?”

“Bro makes them sometimes. Otherwise McDicks does the job just fine.” Dave argues.

“Well, you’ve promised me pancakes and I expect you to deliver. And no, I’m not eating that fast food trash as a substitute.” You cross your arms to emphasize your point. “And while you’re at it you should get some strawberries and whipped cream.”

“What? No way! We’ve already got syrup.”

You pout and put on your best puppy dog eyes. “ _Daaaaaave_ … Please! I’ll be your best friend forever!”

“You already are and look where that’s gotten me.” He sighs and grabs his keys and wallet from the table. “I swear to god, Egbert…” Dave continues mumbling to himself as he slips on his shoes and walks out the door in his pajama pants.

“Whup-PSSSHHHH” Dirk is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, looking smug. “You’ve got that kid whipped.”

 

\---

 

You are now Dirk Strider and you’re finally alone with John Egbert. Not worrying about Dave hovering around suspiciously makes things much easier. Okay that’s only partly true. If you were being completely honest, he makes you pretty nervous. No, you’re a Strider! You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach or any of those ridiculous schoolgirl feelings. But when he blinks at you with those stupid blue anime eyes, man, does your kokoro go doki doki. It’s not your fault he looks cute in his ghost busters boxers and mismatched socks.

You, on the other hand, are trying to look rugged and handsome, dressed black skinny jeans and black wife-beater, with a dirty rag tucked into your back pocket. You hope it’s working.

“Pfft, no! We’re just hella tight, that’s all. He’s doing me a solid.” John explains.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You brush past the shorter boy to grab a glass of water. “You seem like the needy type. How does your girlfriend put up with you?”

“I am not.” John answers, crossing his arms. “And I don’t have one.”

Well that was good news.

“Really? I thought a cute kid like you would have all the girls chasing after you.” You joke and take a sip of water.

“I’m not really all that into girls, actually.” He mutters. You stop drinking and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He averts his eyes. “I mean, Rose and Jade are great, but I don’t really know how to talk to real girls. Not that Rose and Jade aren’t real girls! I just mean that, uh, I’m fine with just having friends, I guess? Sure, I wouldn’t mind dating or whatever, but…” He looks back to see you’re still staring at him. You should probably stop that. “Nevermind.” He finishes quickly.

“No, I know what you mean.” You assure him. 

“I don’t even know what I mean.” He laughs nervously. “Anyways, what about you? A guy like you must have a super cool girlfriend.”

>Let the kid know that you’re down for the D.

That’s sounds positively fucking stupid. But yes, now does seem like a good a time as any to let him know that you’re (in the words of Freddy Mercury) gay as a daffodil.

“I’m too busy with my work for that. Besides, my last relationship ended on a pretty bad note.”

“Oh, that sucks. Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. He was a prick anyways.”

It takes him a moment to register what you’ve just said.

“Oh.” He says after a pause. “Well, why not instead of talking about our dumb love-lives we watch a bad rom com or something?” He gives you a smile, wide and genuine. You are so relieved that he didn’t freak out or get weird. You were surprised at how easy it was to tell John about this stuff. It didn’t feel forced or awkward. You were still anxious, but this wasn’t so bad.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You both head to the living room and begin flicking through channels. After several moments of bickering, you find Love, Actually is playing. It’s part of some dumb Christmas in July marathon on tv. Actually, John seems to be enjoying it. Christmas is his favourite holiday, he tells you.

You’re about 10 minutes into the movie when you decide it’s a good time to move closer. You stretch out your arms and yawn dramatically. You make sure to stretch back just enough that the bottom of your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of your stomach. You see John glance at your sideways, trying to be subtle and failing miserably. You let your arm fall to the back of the couch, just behind John’s head. His eyes flick forward immediately. After a few moments, he eases back again. You feel a smile tug at the corner of your lips.

“Are you getting bored of this? You seem like you’re bored.” John asks after you’re silent for a few minutes. “We can change the channel if you want. I’ve seen this movie about a zillion times.”

“I’m not bored.” You assure him. “Not with you here to entertain me.” You wink at him before remembering he can’t see it through your shades. Smooth.

He smiles and looks at his hands. God, he’s cute.

“We could see what else is on though.” You shrug, using it as an excuse to shift closer to him. You grab the remote and flick through the channels until you stop on a soap opera.

“Uh, Dirk?” John asks. You give him a little hum to so he knows you’re listening. “What the hell are we watching?”

“The Bold and the Beautiful.”

He gives you a funny look with pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows.

“What? A lady’s gotta get her fill of drama.”

He snorts at you. “You’re pretty weird, you know.” He says, tilting his head. You mock an offended expression until he hastily back tracks. “No, no! It’s a good thing! Like, I think you’re really different and it’s a good thing because you’re not boring.”

You can’t tell if he’s flirting with you, but he hasn’t moved away since you cozied up. You’re still unsure where John stands on the whole sexuality thing. Maybe you could test the waters?

“So you’re telling me I’m ‘not like the other girls’?” You joke. He rolls his eyes but laughs anyways. And then it’s quiet. You’re both just sort of staring at each other your smiles slowly fade. His eyes dart down to your lips and he subconsciously licks his own. It’s now or never, you tell yourself.

You begin to lean in and…

 

\---

 

You are Dave Strider, John Egbert’s bitch. At least that’s what you feel like.

It’s barely 7am and you’re at the fucking grocery store. You’ve got a basket filled with eggs, milk – you don’t trust the carton in the fridge because you’ve caught Bro drinking straight from it on more than one occasion – strawberries, and whipping cream. It’s official. You’re pathetic. Pathetic and probably in love with your best friend.

Wait, what? Who said anything about love? You just want to kiss him all the time, and fall asleep curled up with him, and watch bad movies together, and hold him when he cries, and go on cheesy ironic dates, and fuck him senseless… Is that what love is? You’re not too sure. All you know is that you’ve never felt like this about anyone. For now you’ll just brush it off as your raging teenage hormones.

You’re shuffling impatiently forward with the line until you finally reach the till. The clerk greets you with a sunny smile to which you respond with an especially cold glare. You don’t feel all that bad about it, it’s way too early for that shit. Once you’re through checkout, you head straight for the apartment. You’re about halfway there when you get a weird tingly feeling down your spine.

Oh _hell_ no.

John’s at the apartment. And there’s a good chance Dirk’s up by now. You know he’s flirting with John, the fucker’s not even subtle about it. You were always there before to keep them apart, but now they’re at home alone.

You pick up your pace, practically sprinting the whole way there. Of course the elevator’s still out of commission, so you take the stairs two at a time.

> Ruin the moment.

You burst through the door loudly to see John and Dirk uncomfortably close to each other on the couch. They spin to face you as the door slams against the wall.

“Woah, Dave, are you okay?” John asks worriedly, jumping up from the couch. You can’t reply because you’re panting too hard. You see Dirk’s frown as John moves away from him to stand by your side and you smirk. “Did you run all the way back? What the heck!”

“I’m just,” you wheeze, “really excited… about pancakes.”

John laughs and takes the grocery bags into the kitchen. “Augh! You broke like half the eggs!” You and Dirk glare at each other through your shades for a moment before you follow John to get breakfast started.

It’s not long before the apartment is filled with delicious aroma of fried batter. Dirk and Bro wander in just as the last of the pancakes are being stacked on a dish and everyone helps themselves. John plops several huge dollops of whipped cream onto his plate. You watch curiously as he shovels food into his mouth, accidentally smearing whipped cream across his nose and cheeks.

“Uh, dude, you got a little something,” you say, pointing at your own nose. “Like right there. And pretty much everywhere else.”

“Whoops,” He giggles, dragging a finger down his cheek, wiping away the cream. He pops it in his mouth and pulls it away clean. Oh god. He doesn’t stop there, though. He sticks his tongue out swipes it across the tip of his nose and then around his lips. Your throat is suddenly dry.

You look over to see that Dirk and Bro have stopped eating and are attempting to hold their poker faces. You can see that they’re both pretty flustered at the show they’re witnessing. When John begins sucking on the tip of a strawberry, Dirk looks over at you with an expression that says _“You’ve got to be kidding me”_.

You do your best to ignore John’s messy eating for the rest of breakfast and then quickly pull him into your room once you’re both done. This isn’t a free show and your bros sure as hell aren’t invited. You can tell you’re going to have to work hard to keep John to yourself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go swimming and John makes a bet with Bro.

You are still Dave Strider and you're going to make things very clear for your bro. Mark your territory, if you will. Because John is your friend and you saw him first. You don't care if you sound like a child at this point, because John is supposed to be your friend. It was you and him who planned this trip so you could have some well-deserved bro time and you don't need Dirk taking that from you. Besides, wasn't there some rule against moving in on another dude's conquest? It was probably meant for chicks, but this was pretty much the same thing. The Bro Code forbids.

John is busy listening to some of the tracks you mixed. You can always be sure he's distracted when he's listening to music. He forgets where he is and becomes completely unaware of his surroundings. It's moments like these where you let yourself stare. You kind of feel like a creep, but you know he'd probably just laugh it off if he caught you. And how can you resist? You're going to miss the way he just melts onto the bed, how his smile changes with the songs. He's so peaceful when he's like this. You don't want to think about him leaving.

As much as you'd like to stay and watch a bit longer, you have some business to take care of.

> Confront your asshole brother.

You slip out of the room soundlessly - not that he would have noticed anyways - and make your way to Dirk's room. You rap on the door violently.

"What do you want, Dave?"

"We need to talk."

Dirk opens up and leans against the doorway, looking bored. He's got an inch or two on you, but you stand as tall as you can and meet his eyes.

"Well then? Talk." It's a challenge. He knows what you're going to say. It's very clear what's going on. You like John, he likes John, and Striders don't share.

"I've just noticed you've been falling behind on your work, is all." You say casually.

"And since when are you concerned about my work habits?" He replies, face still wearing a blank expression rivalling your own.

"That's what brothers do, isn't it? Look out for each other?"

He pulls of his shades now, grabbing onto the doorway and leaning in. You don't flinch away. Instead, you follow suit and remove yours as well.

_What is this really about?_

He says it using not much more than a quirk of his eyebrow. This is how these things usually went – your weird, sort of telepathic arguments weren’t uncommon.

_Don’t play dumb._

_Are you gonna say it or not?_

_I don’t think I need to._

_You're scared your friend likes me better, aren’t you?_

The smug bastard. It wasn't like that and he knew it. He was the one who kept imposing himself on John. You're sure he was just too polite to complain or make Dirk feel excluded. He couldn't _actually_ like him, right?

_Fuck off and leave us alone._

"Thanks for the thought, but I'll be just fine, 'lil bro." He crosses his arms to signal the end of the conversation and waits for you to leave. He's still smirking when you calmly turn and walk away. You don't look back but you hear him scoff and shut the door again.

You head back to your room to find John hasn’t moved, as you expected. You walk over poke him in the stomach. His eyes shoot open immediately and he makes a squeaky little _“oof!”_ sound as he curls into a ball.

“Dude!” he whines as he pulls of the comically large headphones.

“Come on, I want to get out of this shitty apartment. We’re going swimming.” You search through a pile of laundry and pull out your swim trunks.

“Awesome!” John says, springing to his feet. “We should invite Dirk too! I bet he’d want to come!” Goddamnit.

“He’s probably busy, you shouldn’t bother him-” you try to argue but he’s already bounding down the hall and knocking on Dirk’s door.

Fuck.

 

\---

 

Your name is Dirk Strider and you’re probably a really shitty brother. You’d feel worse about it if you didn’t like John so much. And it’s not like you’d invited yourself to spend the day with them. However, that didn’t stop Dave from glaring at you.

You make your way into the change room. John and Dave each find a stall to change in while you wait with the bags. John finishes first and approaches you with a confused look.

“Aren’t you going to change into your swim suit?” He ask, cocking his head.

“Nah, I don’t really swim.” You answer, shrugging.

“What! Lame. You should come swim anyways. It’ll be fun.”

“I didn’t even bring swim trunks.” You add, hoping he’ll let the subject drop.

“Just go in your boxers. It’s not a big deal.” He looks at you with a hopeful expression. You should have known you weren’t going to get out of it that easily.

“Actually it’s not so much that I don’t _want_ to swim," You mumble, pretending to be distracted by the poster of pool rules on the wall next to you. "And more that I can’t swim?”

“Come on, Dir –” He gives you a funny look, as if he might have heard you wrong. “Wait, what? What do you mean, you can’t swim?”

“Exactly what I said. I can’t swim. Never learned how.”

“Well, then.” John straightens his back and puts on a serious expression. “It looks like it’s up to me to teach you!”

Oh god, no. You just came to get out of the apartments for a few hours and sit in the sun. You did not sign up for this. If you wanted to embarrass yourself, you could do that perfectly fine without involving the risk of drowning. “You really don’t have to do this, John.”

“Of course I do! And you can call me senpai.”

 

***

 

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to close your eyes.” John instructs. You’re laying on your back, floating in the water of the shallow end. John’s hand is under you, pressing up against your back to help you float.

“How is that supposed to help?” You ask. What was he up to?

“Trust me.”

You shut your eyes. The sounds around you seem louder now, even though the pool isn’t that busy. You can hear splashing and screaming but above it all you hear John’s breathing. That’s what you concentrate on. The water is starting to fell nice now, cooling your sun-warmed skin. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all?

John’s hand slides away. “Okay, you can open them.”

“What was the point of –” You suddenly realize that you’re no longer in the shallow end.

“Don’t freak out. You’re doing fine.” John hums. He’s still beside you but he’s not holding you up anymore. You’re doing this on your own. And you might be smiling just a little. John’s smiling back at you and you just sort of float there for a while. That is until a hand grabs your leg and drags you underwater.

> Kiss your fine ass goodbye.

What have you gotten yourself into? You are going to die, and it’s not even going to be a cool death. You’re going to drown in a public swimming pool.

Two arms scoop you up, dragging you back to the surface. When your face emerges you cough up a lung full of water and cling to the arms around you.

“Geez, Dirk, relax! I’ve got you, okay?” John soothes. Once you’ve calmed down again, he shifts until he’s holding your arms and you’re gripping his shoulders a little too tight. You are in 8 feet of water, after all. “Just take a deep breath.”

“You should see your face right now,” Dave laughs, floating by and splashing water at you as he goes. “Stop being such a baby.”

“Don’t be mean, Dave!” John scolds, shooting a glare in his direction. He turns his attention back to you, though. He’s looking right into your eyes – he made you take off your shades before getting in the pool – and giving you a gentle smile. “You did fine. Dave’s just being an ass.”

You spend the next hour or so like this. Dave stays close offering to help. He’s obviously jealous of all the attention John’s giving you and doesn’t want to leave you alone together.

When you all finally get hungry, and more than a little waterlogged, you decide to take a lunch break. You end up sitting on a big blanket under a tree, rummaging through the bag to pull out the sandwiches John made earlier. John is putting on sunscreen while you and Dave set out the food and pretend not to watch. When he struggles to reach his back, you both leap up and offer to help. Luckily you’re closer and you take the bottle from his hands before he can agree.

“I- uh… sure?” John says. Dave sits back down with sour expression on his face while you pour some sunscreen into your hand. You massage it into John’s back and he relaxes into your touch.

“All done,” you tell him, once you’ve covered the skin thoroughly.

“Thanks!” He chirps, turning around to face you.

There’s a bit of excess sunscreen on your hand so you boop him on the nose to wipe it off. “No problem.” He laughs.

“Think fast,” is all the warning you get before a can of orange soda is flying at your face. Your reflexes are good enough that you catch it before it hits you. Dave has already turned back to setting out the last of the snacks, attempting to look innocent.

“Hey, Dave, pass me a pepsi!” John says, wiping his nose on his forearm.

“No way, there’s only one in here and it’s got my name all over it.” Dave takes the can of pop and cracks the top.

“What, your name’s pepsi now?” John reaches for the drink as the other boy tries to take a sip. “Nice to meet you, pespi.”

“That’s exactly my name. Now screw off, Egbert.”

“You don’t even like it, you butt!” He continues leaning over him as Dave hold the drink just out of his reach. “You can have one of the orange sodas.”

“Like I’d drink that shit.”

“More for me,” you shrug, taking a nice refreshing swig. Dave shoots daggers at you with his eyes. You’re sure if he had actual daggers, he’d be shooting those at you as well.

John takes advantage of your brother’s momentary distraction to grab for the drink again. He ends up falling into Dave’s lap. The smaller boy doesn’t seem to mind, but Dave goes rigid underneath him. John takes the pepsi from his hand, Dave no longer trying to hold it out of reach, and starts guzzling it down. John gets comfy in his lap while your bro’s face gets redder by the second. It’s quite hilarious to watch.

“Ahhhhh,” John sighs, leaning into Dave and putting the empty can back in his hand. “Thanks, pepsi.” He pats the blonde’s head and stands up.

“Goddamnit,” Dave mumbles tossing the can aside.

“I’m starving. Where’s the sandwiches at?” He punctuates the sentence with a loud burp and then giggles to himself.

“Careful, kid.” You deadpan. “You’re getting me all hot and bothered.”

 

After a few more hours of swimming, or attempting to, you all agree to call it a day. You pack up your stuff and head to the change rooms again. You take your clothes to a shower stall and begin wringing out your boxers. They’re going to be uncomfortable as hell to wear home. Maybe there’s a hand dryer you could stick them under? You curse under your breath as you contemplate your options. A knock on the stall door shakes you from your thoughts.

“Uh, Dirk?” It’s John.

“What’s up?” You answer.

“Since you didn’t have a bathing suit, I’m guessing you probably didn’t bring a change of underwear either.” You can see his feet shuffling under the door. “I always bring a spare, Socks too, just in case. So, if you want to borrow them, that’s cool! If it’s not weird for you, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be pretty great actually. These were starting to chafe.” He passes you a pair of black boxers under the door. They’ve got green blobs all over them. Green blobs with faces?

“Thanks,” you say, waiting for him to walk away before slipping them on. You’re wearing John Egbert’s boxers. You aren’t thinking about how many times he’s probably worn these. You definitely aren’t thinking about how many times he’s probably jacked off in these. Shit, be cool. It’s not a big deal, okay? Oh great, now your face is all red and you’re going to pop a boner if you don’t stop thinking about these goddamned boxers.

You finish getting dressed and join the other boys who are now waiting for you. The bus ride home feels like it takes forever. You’re wondering if it might have been a better idea to just wear your own wet underwear home because if you don’t get there soon these ones are going to be wet too. When you do finally get back, you head straight for your room, mumbling some made up excuse about leaving your welding equipment on. You shut the door quickly and shuck off your pants, which are way too tight. You come in just a few minutes – remembering at the last second to pull down the boxers completely so you don’t get them dirty – still standing against the door biting your hand to muffle the sounds you make.

You don’t know what it is about him that gets you so worked up, but you’re feeling sort of like a love stuck puppy right now. God, you’re pathetic.

 

\---

 

John Egbert is your name, and you are the pranking master. Nobody can deny it. Except apparently Bro Strider?

He’s probably just trying to get a rise out of you. He’s seen your very professional, and definitely not sexual, pranking gear. Only true pranksters are dedicated enough to bring it along wherever they go. And yet he’s standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you skeptically. You mimic his stance – looking up instead of down because let’s face it, Bro is a tall guy – in what is probably less intimidating way, but challenging nonetheless.

“Seriously, kid. From what I’ve seen so far, your pranks suck.” Bro tossed a whoopee cushion at you and you fumbled to catch it. This was the third set up he’d foiled. You really had to step up your game.

“Maybe that’s what I want you to think!” You say, feeling clever.

“Obviously not or else you just fucked up your little plan by saying that.” Bro pointed out. Shit, he was right. You’d better try another approach.

“You’re just jealous. You could never prank as well as me and you know it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” You retorted. The few pranks you had set up for Bro had been unsuccessful, it was true. He was much more difficult to trick than Dave and Dirk. Those two walked right into them. Literally, in the case of the plastic wrap doorway trick. It was almost too easy. That’s why you wanted to get Bro, and you wanted to get him good! But the guy never let his guard down! You were getting more and more frustrated as he continued to foil your attempts.

“I guess you’d be willing to prove it, then?” The predatory look was back on Bro’s face and it was more than a little unsettling. He was up to something and it wasn’t going to end well. Unfortunately for you, you were stubborn. To a fault. “Why don’t we settle this with a good old fashioned prank-off?”

“Pshhh. Piece of cake,” you scoffed.

“Loser has to clean this shit-hole of an apartment.”

“What? I’m not cleaning your place! That’s so dumb!”

“So you forfeit the title or Pranking Master?” Bro was examining his nailbed, looking bored. He tsked at you. “Wow, John, I’m kinda disappointed.”

“No, I never said that!” You corrected, throwing the whoopee cushion at his face. He caught it in one hand, not even flinching. “I just think this is some lame excuse to get me to clean up after you idiots.” And it totally was. You’re pretty sure this place hadn’t been properly cleaned in years.

“Maybe it is. Doesn’t matter though, because it sounds to me like you’ve accepted defeat already.”

“You know what? Fine.” Wait no, what are you saying? This is a terrible idea! “You’re on. I don’t have to worry because I’m not going to lose anyways.” Damn it, stop talking already!

Bro huffs a laugh at you. “Someone’s cocky. If you’re so sure, why don’t we raise the stakes?”

No, don’t do it, John, you tell yourself. This is bad enough already. Quit while you’re ahead. Don’t do it.

> Do the thing.

“What did you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you seem to want more Bro and John interactions, so they'll be getting more time together in the next few chapters!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Bro have a prank war. Dave and Dirk endure the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW THIS CHAPTER HAPPENED. KATIE CHALLENGED ME, OKAY. I'M SORRY.
> 
> NO I'M NOT.
> 
> Also, wow, I've been getting so many wonderful compliments! Thanks to everyone who's stuck around this far! There is still much more to come. [MANIC LAUGHING]

Your name is John Egbert and you're pulling out all the stops for this prank war, but you've got a tough opponent.

You started bright and early, because what better way is there to start the day than with breakfast? Especially because the night before, after everyone else was asleep, you had snuck into the kitchen to set your traps.

Bro strides into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of sweatpants low on his hips, and eyes you suspiciously. He was obviously expecting you to strike first, and you weren't going to leave him hanging. You smile innocently at him and then turn back to your bowl of stale lucky charms. He continues his morning routine, grabbing the milk from the fridge and taking a few swigs straight from the carton, then grabbing a slice of cold pizza. He was playing right into your hands. He moves over to the living room and you follow casually, taking your bowl with you. He turns on the tv and settles in. You watch intently, waiting for the first bite... but the hot sauce you had covered it with has no effect on him. There is no hysterical reaction like the one you imagined. Instead, he props his feet up on the coffee table and sinks deeper into his seat.

"You want a bite?" He offers. staring at you knowingly and chewing slowly. Apparently Bro is a fan of hot sauce. You're a little dishearted, but you have more in store for him, so you don't let it bother you too much.

You hope your next one would do the trick. It's a fairly standard prank, but effective nonetheless. You had found an elastic band in the cushions of the futon and wrapped it around the spray nozzle on the sink. With the trigger pressed down, the moment Bro went to use the sink, he'd get a nice face-full of water.

You watch him pass the sink several times, never stopping to use it. You probably should have considered Bro's hygiene when choosing this prank. Come to think of it, you'd never actually seen him wash his hands. Gross. This was going to be harder than you thought.

Luckily for you, it's not long before Bro decides to take a nap on the futon. It must have been unintentional - not only did he leave the tv blaring, but it gave you the perfect chance to put your next plan into action. You grab the can of shaving cream from your bag (Your dad had insisted on you bringing it when he claimed to have spotted a hair on your chin. Let's just say, a few tears were shed and your father had apparently never been more proud.). You tiptoe over to the futon, not very discreetly, but the tv drowns out any sounds you could make anyways. Bro's palm is facing upwards, arm thrown lazily above his head. The perfect set up. You get down to business, shaking the aerosol can and spilling the shaving cream all over his hand. When there is a good tower of it resting on his palm, you pull a feather from your pocket and carefully lean over to tickle his nose-

> SPLAT!

You reel backwards, a handful of the product having been slapped across your face. You hear Bro laughing as you try to spit the awful taste out of your mouth.

"Come on, kid." He chuckled. "You really think I'd let my guard down like that?" He reaches over and wipes his hand down your back as he pushes by.

You grumble and make your way to the kitchen. You've got shaving cream in your hair and on your glasses as well. You see Bro is now standing next to the sink sipping a glass of water and you shove him aside roughly. The moment you turn on the tap you realize you've been out-witted. The spray nozzle shoots a stream of water at you, drenching your face and chest.

"Augh!" You cry, reaching blindly for the tap again.

"John, if you're going to take a shower, please do it in the bathroom. You're making a mess." Bro scolds, holding back his laughter.

You're about to give him a piece of your mind, but he flash-steps away before you can even get out the first syllable.

The next few pranks you try to pull don't work out too much better. Bro sees right through your toothpaste filled oreos and wasn't even phased by you fake spiders. If anything, you'd just wasted a pack of perfectly good cookies and your spiders were now crushed into unrecognizable lumps of plastic from Bro's boots.

You've had it. No more mister nice guy. You were going to hit him right where it hurt this time.

"Hey, Dave." You ask casually while you're playing xbox in the living room. You take a quick double check around the room to make sure Bro's not there to hear you. "What's with Bro's creepy puppet thing?"

"You mean Li'l Cal?" Dave answers, not looking away from the screen. You aren't really paying attention the game anymore and Dave kills you with a headshot. "He's like Bro's best friend or some shit. Or maybe they're in some sort of romantic relationship, I'm not really clear on the details, i just know it's weird as fuck." Dave leans over and nudges you with his elbow. "Dude, respawn already."

"Oh, yeah, sure." You say. So Li'l Cal was pretty important to Bro, huh? You start to wonder where he keeps it and how tricky it would be to get your hands on. While you're deep in thought, Dave kills you at least 5 more times before giving up and shutting off the console. You tune in to an episode of How I Met Your Mother halfway through. 

"I gotta pee." You say, getting up from your seat. Dave nods absently, and you make your way down the hall. You pull the bathroom door closed from the outside loud enough for him to hear and then continue to tiptoe down the hallway towards Bro's room. You're pretty sure Bro is out right now, but he could be back any time. He may be loud an obnoxious most of the time, but he's as quiet as death when he wants to be. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for the hoards of sex puppets and other disturbing sights you are bound to find on the other side of this door...

When you open the door, you find a pretty average looking bedroom. There's a bed, a side table with a lamp, a few posters and katanas hung on the walls. There's also a pile of puppets in the corner next to a what might be a sewing machine, but it's not nearly as scarring as what you'd imagined. In fact, some of the plushies look kinda cute. But you were not here for those, no sir. You had one particular puppet in your sights. And there he was, sitting on the dresser.

You sneak across the room, Dirk's loud techno music through the wall muffling the sounds of the creaky floor as you step. You almost feel like you're in Mission Impossible. This task is certainly risky enough. You grab Li'l Cal as if he were a precious relic deep in some ancient ruins, and don't wait for the booby traps to go off.

> Abscond.

You dash back out the door. It's not very subtle, but you seem to have gone unnoticed anyways.

Bro comes home soon enough, heading straight to his room. It's not long before you hear his door open again, though.

"Where the fuck's Li'l Cal?" He says, storming into the kitchen, eyes on Dave who shakes his head and takes a step back in response. That wasn't a good sign. Bro turned to you next. "John. You wouldn't happen to know where Cal is, would you?" He asks, sweetly.

"Nope." You say, trying to sound nonchalant. It didn't come out sounding that way because a feeling of dread was sinking in and it must have been pretty apparent. Oh, god, what have you done?

"You're sure about that?" Bro asks again, stepping in front you. He towers over you, leaning in.

"Yes?" Whoops. You didn't mean for that to sound like a question. Bro's hands move to rest on the counter on either side of you. You keep your arms straight at your side, shrinking back. You glance over at Dave, hoping he'll step in and help you out of this.

"You messed with Li'l Cal, didn't you?" Dave sighs. You give him a panicked look. "You done goofed, son."

"Well, kiddo?" Bro continues, slouching over so you're at eye level with him. You're extremely thankful you have an empty bladder right now, because you're certain you'd be pissing yourself otherwise.

"I, um..." You gulp loudly. "Might possibly know where he is maybe."

Bro smirks. "Well isn't that lucky for you," He drawls, moving his hands away. You quickly bend down and grab Li'l Cal from where you taped him under the sink. You stand up again and hold the doll out to Bro. He takes it from you and looks it over, pulling off the fake mustache you'd attached to its face, and you flinch when he presses it to your forehead. "Better sleep with one eye open tonight, Johnny Boy."

And then he's gone.

You look over at Dave again, wearing a worried look on your face. He just shakes his head. Welp. Looks like you're pulling an all nighter.

***

A pressure against your back rouses you from your sleep. Wait, when did that happen? You don't remember falling asleep... But then again your mind is hazy and you can't really be bothered to try. And besides, the warmth pressed up against your side is nice and calming. You curl into it. But when something loops under your knees and you feel the ground falling away beneath you, you start to struggle.

"Shhhh..." A voice soothes. You press your face into the warmth and bring your hand up to clutch at the fabric there. It helps you forget that there's no floor beneath you and you're sort of floating. The voice hums to you and the vibrations of it lull you back into unconsciousness.

***

You're startled awake by a loud metallic bang. You open your eyes, expecting to see Dave's ceiling and instead finding the sky open above you and a gritty texture under your hands. Where are you?

"Dave?" you ask weakly, your voice still thick with sleep. You blink your eyes, adjusting to the light of the morning sky. You realize you're on the roof. As you sit up you hear a piece of paper crinkle against your stomach. You pull the note off your shirt to read it.

_Bro Strider's Bitch_

You stand up and rush to the door. It's locked. Shit. You're trapped on the roof and the sun is rising. You know that soon enough it's going to be baking up here, and that's not something your pasty, pale skin can handle! You look back down at the note, flipping it over to find more writing on the back side.

_If you want back inside, all you have to do is sign this page, forfeiting your self-declared title of "prank master" to me. If not, have fun getting a tan._

It's probably time for you to give up.

 

\---

 

You wake up being Dave Strider. Like you do every morning, obviously. You're surprised that you weren't woken up by John a few hours ago. It's nearly 10:30 and his bed is empty - that's weird. You grab your shades off the side table and slip on a shirt, forgoing pants because it's too warm for anything but boxers right now. You can feel your fringe sticking to your forehead a little and you wonder if maybe John went to have a shower because you're certainly feeling the need for one too. You leave your stuffy room in search of your friend and some breakfast.

"John?" You call down the hallway. There's no answer. You move on to the kitchen. It looks... surprisingly clean? "Yo Egbert, where you at?" Still no response. You grab a glass of apple juice before heading out to the living room where you can hear the television. What you see as you enter nearly has you spitting your AJ everywhere.

John is standing in the living room wearing a maid dress. It's black and tight on top, flaring out into a puffy skirt at the waist. There's white ruffles lining the sleeves and skirt, and a white apron the tied up into a big bow on the back. You're obviously still asleep because there's no way in hell that this isn't a dream. Not that you dream about dudes in dresses... Well, apparently you do now because there he is, dusting the weapon display in his cute little uniform. Your face must be turning a vibrant shade of red by now and you start to feel blood rushing to your groin. But if this is a wet dream, you're not sure what Bro's doing here.

After a moment of sputtering and trying to swallow your drink, you let out a cough which catches John's attention. He spins to face you, his own face flushing when he sees you staring.

"Uh..." Is all you manage to say.

John narrows his eyes and glances over at Bro. "Don't fucking ask." He warns you.

"Yo, Madokabert." Bro says sipping a beer, feet propped up on the coffee table as usual. "You missed a spot." That gets him the dirtiest look that John can muster before he turns back around and continues his work.

You're not sure what to do, so you just stand there, gawking at the sight before you. Eventually you remember how to speak. "Um, what the fuck is going on, Bro?"

"Contract." Bro says simply.

" _You've got to be fucking kidding me..._ " John curses under his breath.

"Did you actually agree to this, John? What the hell?" You ask, still in disbelief of the situation. John answers by pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't think he was serious about it..." He groans. "And I didn't think he was gonna cheat."

"All's fair in love and war, kid. Now be a dear and put on a dvd for us." Bro orders. Seriously, what the fuck did John do? Why is he actually listening to your asswipe of a brother? You're not sure but... you're not exactly complaining. It's probably pretty terrible of you, but you're sort of enjoying this. Maybe you should grab your camera to document this moment. "Let's see... what about Maid in Manhattan?"

John continues to glare at Bro as he crosses in front of you to grab the dvd from the shelf. He kneels down to put it in the disc slot, yanking at the short dress to cover more of his exposed legs. "Why is it unplugged? Bro, what the hell?"

"Looks like you're gonna have to get in there and hook it up" Bro answered, shrugging.

"I fucking hate all of you." John hisses. He bends over, reaching for the cords behind the entertainment system. As he leans in to connect the plug, reaching behind the other consoles, he unintentionally sticks his ass up in the air, flashing you his matching black underwear. They hug him so perfectly and it's almost painful to watch. You're so thankful you didn't put on your skinny jeans because it would have made it even more obvious that you were already at half-mast.

You hear something clatter to the ground behind you and you turn to see Dirk standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raised to the point where it's almost cartoonish. He quickly realizes he's dropped whatever he was holding - some sort of circuit board or something, you're not too sure - and scrambles to pick it up.

"What did I miss?" He asks, observing the scene before him with tight lips and a slowly reddening face. John finishes setting up the movie and stands up, smoothing out his dress. He huffs a little before storming away, pushing past Dirk who remains shocked and unmoving.

"John. Sandwich. Pronto." Bro calls after him.

"I'm not making you a sandwich, you prick."

"Come on, sweetheart, Papa's waiting."

"Do you really trust me not to poison it?"

"Point taken."

 

\---

 

You are now Dirk Strider. You've been locked up in your room for most of the day. Can you really be blamed? You sure as hell weren't prepared for what you saw that morning. Okay, so you might have stuck around a little while to watch John clean a few things in that dress. You're only human. But you eventually retreated to your room after getting a few annoyed looks from him when he caught you staring. You decided it was best you avoided him.

So here you were. You'd barely eaten anything all day and you were pretty starved.

> Get off your lazy ass and get some food.

Surely it would be safe to get some food now - you can't imagine John would wear the uniform longer than necessary. Anyways, everyone was probably asleep. It was pretty late and even you were starting to feel tired. You head out to the kitchen to grab something to eat before you call it a night. You realize, once again, you're not the only one awake.

"Oh, hey, Dirk." John says. He smiles at you as he fills up a glass with tap water at the sink.

"Hey." You reply cooly, trying not to think about him in that frilly skirt again. "I'm surprised you're not asleep yet. It's pretty late and you had a pretty, uh... eventful day."

John blushes all the way up to his ears. "Don't remind me." He mutters looking away awkwardly.

"What was that even about?" You ask.

John hoists himself up so he's sitting on the counter, feet swinging a little. He sighs heavily before explaining. "I made a bet with Bro. He was going on about how my pranks sucked, and I had to prove him wrong because, I mean, we _all_ know that I'm a thousand times better at pranking than him. The only reason he won was because he cheated!"

You laugh as John crosses his arms and huffs. "Yeah, but how in hell did he get you to wear that little number?" You walk by him to open the fridge and review your snack options.

"Okay, I was sure he was kidding about that. And we had already shook on it so there was no going back. But, like, how was I supposed to know he actually had a fucking dress in my size lying around? That's pretty fucked up."

"Bro _is_ pretty fucked up." You reply, closing the fridge again and going for one of the oranges sitting on the counter instead. " And you know, he probably made it himself. Come on, though, John. What were you thinking, challenging him in the first place?"

"Wait, Bro actually sews?"

"Well, yeah. Where do you think all the puppets come from?"

He considers this for a moment. "Huh. I guess I don't really know that much about him." John shrugs and takes another sip of his water. "Anyways, what are you doing up?"

"Haven't really eaten all day. Thought I'd come grab something now." You toss the orange in your hands, keeping your eyes on John.

"Dirk, can I ask you something?"

"You just did." You inform him. He gives you an exasperated expression. "Shoot."

"Well, it's just that, you're never hanging out with any of your friends or anything. I mean, you're a really cool guy and stuff, so... why do you always wanna hang out with me and Dave?" He watches you with his deep blue eyes, looking genuinely confused, as if he really couldn't understand why you'd want to spend time with him.

How are you supposed to answer that? _Because I have the hots for you?_ It doesn't seem right. You don't really know what to say. You curl your nails into your palms and feel your heartbeat rising...

> Kiss him.

You can't stop yourself - you're moving before you can even think about it. You flash step over to John, standing between his legs with your faces only inches apart, and he jumps a little in surprise. You rest your hands on his thighs, leaning into him, hovering over his lips. You stay there for a moment, waiting for him to push you away. He doesn't. Instead, he breathes against you and you watch as his wide eyes flick down to your lips. You finally close the distance and John seems frozen for a minute. He doesn't move away, so you take that as a good sign. Your heart is pounding in your ears now, drowning out everything that isn't John as you move your hands up to his hips and deepen the kiss. He relaxes his mouth against yours and accommodates you by spreading his legs a bit more so you can settle between them more comfortably. His hand gently tugs on the front of your shirt so you drag him to the edge of the counter, closer to you. You experimentally stick your tongue out to slide along his bottom lip and you're rewarded with a little gasp. He's shy about this though, tilting his head down a little in what you guess is embarrassment, and it's so endearing that a smile spreads across your face.

"John," you breathe out, resting your hand on his cheek and guiding him back to your mouth. He lets you lead him, licking and sucking on his soft lips. You eventually trail your way across his jaw and down his neck and, oh god, you've wanted to do that for so long. Okay, so maybe it hadn't really been that long, but it sure felt that way. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open, so you come back up and cover it with your own.

Suddenly, John's hands are on your shoulders, pushing you back and breaking the kiss. It's all over too soon. He's panting lightly - and so are you - as he slides off the counter, his hands between you, keeping you at a distance. "Dirk, I- uh..." His face is flushed and his lips are swollen, and he looks gorgeous. You want nothing more than to kiss him again, but you know something's up. "I can't... I have to go." He stutters before rushing out of the room unceremoniously. You're left standing there in the kitchen alone as you hear Dave's door click shut.

You fucked up.


End file.
